Precarious(5)

“I can’t help it. I’m so damned in love with them. Can you tell?” she asks, twirling around, and twisting to stare at her ass. “Is it fat?”

I roll my eyes. Claire has the kind of ass most men would drop to their knees for.

“Why don’t you ask Leo?” I chuckle.

She slaps my arm as she passes me, heading towards the fridge. “Quit teasing me about Leo. So what he walked in on me showering? He’s got a bevvy of babes, and I’m sure seeing me naked was the equivalent to a gynecologist seeing a vagina—an every-day occurrence that is barely worth batting an eyelid at.”

I snort and laugh softly. “God, you give the most . . . interesting descriptions.”

She slides her backside up onto the counter and crosses her legs, popping a milk dud into her mouth. “Did you see the news?”

“About the shooting?” I ask, pouring myself an orange juice.

“Yeah, it’s so sad.”

I can’t give Claire any information from my job, but I do tell her, “I saw him being brought into the prison as I was leaving.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

I nod, stealing a milk dud for myself. “Yep.”

“What was he like?”

My cheeks heat as I think about the gorgeous, rugged biker. “He was, ah, just a normal criminal.”

“I just can’t believe he killed that family. So cold and twisted.”

I nod. “You’re right about that.”

The front door slams and we both turn to see Leo charging in. Damn, he’s good looking. Even Claire’s eyes move over his body. He’s built; I mean, mega built. He’s all muscle. His shoulders are broad and he’s got abs that go far and beyond a six-pack. His messy brown hair often falls over his face, sometimes getting too long and covering those stunning hazel eyes.

He’s covered in tattoos. They run up his arms and over his shoulders. He’s got one down his belly that snakes around to his back. He’s even got a few on his thighs. The man is an ink machine. His hazel eyes, which are more yellow than green, swing to us and narrow. Claire looks to me, then back to him.

“Problem, Leo?”

He grunts, and walks past us.

“Good to see you, too,” I yell out after him.

We hear him throw his bag down with another grunt, and we both turn back to each other and giggle softly.

“He’s such a stiff sometimes. He needs a good woman to get him out of his shell. Maybe you can work your magic on him?”

I shake my head. “No thank you; been there, done that, Leo isn’t the man for me.”

“Ah, the drunken night between Leo and Ash.”

“Shut up.” I smile. “Don’t remind me.”

She jumps off the counter and wiggles her hips. “Oh, la la.”

I roll my eyes. I used to have a major crush on Leo; something to do with the silent, angry type. My crush only lasted for about six months. The reason for that is because one night we both got drunk, really, really drunk, and ended up in bed. I was in a low place and it wasn’t the best choice I’ve ever made.

It’s not that Leo wasn’t great in bed, because he was. Even drunk, he blew my mind. It was just that things got awkward—like, super awkward. We have nothing in common, and it just made things weird between us. It took a few months for us to be able to look each other in the eye again, but we’ve managed to get there.

“I’m going to shower before you spontaneously combust,” I chide her, disappearing down the hall.

“Ohhhh, all nakie and wet,” she sings.

I laugh and walk towards my room. I stop when I see Leo in his, the door just slightly ajar. He’s pacing backwards and forwards, running his hands through his hair. I can’t help it; I stop walking and knock on his open door.

“Leo?” I ask, stepping in.

He stops pacing, and turns to look at me. “What do you want?”

“Don’t be an ass. I’m just seeing if you’re okay.”

He stares at me, then sighs loudly. “No, I’m not fuckin’ okay.”

“Want to tell me why?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your prisoners, Ash.”

“Okay . . . What’s happenin’, yo?”

His lips twitch with a smile, and I give him a full-blown one in return.

“It’s Evelyn,” he mutters.

Ah, Evelyn. The girl he’s been dating on and off. She’s easy, she’s expensive and she’s up herself, in a big way. She’s bad for him all round, but she’s gorgeous. So he keeps going back.

“What’s she doing now?” I ask, sitting on the small sofa in his room.

He raises a brow at me.

“What?” I say, throwing my hands up. “I’m trying to help.”